


To Catch a Spark

by zaphodsgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 15:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17583317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaphodsgirl/pseuds/zaphodsgirl
Summary: Cas has been acting pretty clumsy lately and Dean is a little worried.





	To Catch a Spark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A_Diamond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Diamond/gifts), [sconesandtextingandmurder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/gifts).



> This fic was inspired by [A_diamond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Diamond/pseuds/A_Diamond)  
> and [this post](https://imgur.com/HCYwcL6). It was written on a whim while I was avoiding other writing, and has not been beta read, so all mistakes are mine. Thanks to the Thuper Thecret Chat room for the inspo!

Dean doesn't think anything of it the first time it happens, because it could happen to anyone. He's turning away from one of the bookshelves in the library with three volumes stacked in his arms at the same moment that Cas is walking behind him, and as they collide the books fall to the floor with several heavy thuds.

"Dean! I'm so sorry, here let me help you."

"No, I got it," he says, kneeling down to grab them, turning his back to Cas as he does. It's not that he's opposed to adding that image to his mental spank bank for later -- on his knees, looking up at his angel, maybe reaching out to steady himself on one thick thigh -- it's just that he doesn't trust himself to mask his desires anymore. Even Castiel, unschooled in the manner of reading the depth of human emotions, will eventually put the pieces together if he catches Dean staring at his junk. He stacks the books on top of one another again and stands up slowly. "No harm done."

Cas looks at him sheepishly, and Dean is about to tell him not to be embarrassed before he gives a swift nod and turns back in the direction he came. Dean watches him go for a moment, then turns to Sam with a shrug before sitting down at the table with his books.

"That was weird," he says under his breath, already turning a page, so he misses the smug grin on Sam's face before he hides it in his mug of coffee.

***

The next time it happens is alarming, but only on the surface. He's drying dishes in the bunker's kitchen, enjoying the monotony of an easy activity with a predictable outcome, something they rarely get to enjoy. Sam is at the table typing away on his laptop, and Dean is just spacing out, letting the ambient sound wash over him. He's got the last plate in his hands, the towel draped over them both, turning the plate in counter clockwise circles and he dries along the edge. He balances it on one hand as he dries the center with the other, at the same time turning away from the sink to put it in the cabinet, when he collides with something unexpectedly.

The plate falls to the floor, shattering on the concrete floor, and Dean pushes Cas away from the shards as they spread in all directions. They stand on either side of the mess, staring at the pieces before Cas raises his gaze to meet Dean's eyes.

"Dean, that was clumsy of me, I'll just..." he crouches down to start picking up splinters of ceramic, and Dean waves him away.

"No! Don't do that, you'll just cut yourself." He can't stand the thought of Cas being injured in such a small way, even with something so insignificant after all they've been through. "I got this Cas, just move away from it before you accidentally step on a piece."

"It's not going to stab me through a shoe, Dean."

"No, but it'll track shattered pieces of ceramic all through the bunker, just let me get it."

Dean turns his back on Cas as he grabs the broom and dustpan out of the corner,returning only to catch the edge of Cas's trench coat as he leaves the kitchen.

"Cas, what did you want?" He calls after him, but when there's no response he just shakes his head and starts sweeping, looking at Sam as he does. "What was that about?"

Sam shrugs, turning away to sip at his beer so Dean doesn't see the grin on his face.

***

The third time nearly gives Dean a heart attack for a completely unexpected reason. He's got his small basket of clean, folded laundry cocked on one hip as he makes his way back to his room late one night, moving on auto-pilot as he rolls his neck on his shoulders to stretch the muscles. As he turns the corner towards his room the basket is knocked out of his grip, its contents strewn all over the floor, and his head snaps up to see Cas looking like a deer in headlights.

"I...Dean, I'm sorry. Let me get those for you." He starts to move towards to scattered clothing, but Dean puts a hand on his chest.

"No! No, man, I got it. It's, uh, weird to think of you touching my skivvies. Just watch where you're going, okay? This is starting to be a bad habit."

If possible, those blue eyes get even wider, and a blush starts creeping up his neck.

"Of course, of course you...wouldn't want that. My apologies." He turns and trots back up the corridor, and Dean is looking after him strangely when Sam pokes his head out of his own door.

"What's going on?"

Dean shakes himself out of his trance, looking at his brother before kneeling down on the floor. "I don't know, man, Cas seems to be pretty clumsy these days. I hope he's okay." He panics when he hears Sam laughing, but then breathes a sigh of relief when he finds that the purple satin panties aren't in plain view. Whatever Sam is laughing at it's not those, thankfully.

He'd never be able to explain to his brother about the conversation he had with himself in that future, or how it made him remember just how much he'd enjoyed trying on Rhonda's panties in high school. He shoves all the laundry back into the basket with a grimace, glad that he'd stopped Cas before he touched any of it. He doesn't know what it would do to his libido to see Cas touching Dean's clothes, much less what would happen if he came across those panties, running them through his hand while he gave Dean a questioning look. Dean would never be able to explain that the panties weren't some conquest souvenir while simultaneously hiding the erection he was sure to get seeing those long, elegant fingers gripping the satin.

He stands up and turns to Sam, leaning against his own doorway, shaking his head at Dean.

"What?"

"It's adorable, is what."

"What, how Cas has begun to lose all sense of balance? Aren't you worried about him?"

"No, what's adorable is how clueless you are." He stops, looking at the ceiling. "Huh, Clueless. Wonder if he got to that one yet."

"Sam, please speak English or I'll have to sneak into your room at night and shave your head."

"Okay, okay," Sam says, holding his hands up in defeat. "It's just that Cas has been doing some research, you could say."

"What kind of research?"

"The kind you do on Netflix," Sam says, retreating into his room and shutting the door behind him. Dean stands in the hallway, his basket gripped firmly in both hands, looking in the direction Cas went.

"What the hell does that mean?" he mutters to himself before heading into his room and kicking the door closed behind him.

***

Dean watches Cas carefully over the next few days, trying to gauge his balance, but it seems like Cas is keeping his distance. More distance than ever before, it seems. He won't even make eye contact if he can help it, and that's a sure sign that something's wrong. He wants to take Cas aside and talk to him, try to find out what's wrong, but every time he approaches it seems like Cas discovers a pressing matter that requires his attention in another room.

He decides to lock himself in the Dean Cave to mull it over, figuring he can chill out with Indiana Jones while he tries to work out what's wrong with his best friend. As he's walking down the hall he thinks maybe he can get set up and then text Cas to join him, see if he can get him to relax with a...

"What is this?" he asks as he enters the room to see a dozen of the bunker refugees crowded into the space, bowls of popcorn spread around among them and a movie on the screen that looks like "Is that Love Actually?"

"Dean!" Jack calls out, waving him eagerly into the room. When he gets close enough Jack grabs his sleeve, pulling Dean down so he can whisper. "We've been watching the rom-coms, every Thursday night. I'm glad you finally came!"

"Every Thursday?" he asks incredulously. "What do you mean every Thursday? How long have you all been doing this?" Two people nearby shush him, and he gives them a quelling look.

"A few months now. Castiel wanted to study something Sam had explained to him, and he asked if I wanted to keep him company, and then some of the others started coming, and now it's pretty regular."

Dean looks around the room, where everyone's attention is glued to his large screen TV. "I don't see Cas here now."

"Yeah," Jack says sadly. "He said that he'd determined that the meet-cute was a fallacy and he didn't want to do anymore research."

"Sorry, did you say meet-cute? What's a meet-cute?"

"You know, like, when two characters who are destined to fall in love meet for the first time in a movie? But it's always in a cute way, like," and he gestures at the screen where Natalie is inadvertently cussing her way through meeting her love interest for the first time. "Or like, in Notting Hill where he runs into her on the street and spills his orange juice all over her? Or in When Harry Met Sally where they share a trip cross country together? Oh, or in Two Weeks Notice when she wants him to pledge not to tear down the community center and he offers her a job?" The glee on Jack's face morphs into a quizzical look. "That gentleman is in a lot of these movies, come to think of it. He must be a professional rom-commer."

The pieces are slowly starting to click into place as Jack speaks, but no. It can't be. Can it?

"Jack, when did Cas tell you it was a fallacy?"

"Oh, um, Monday, when I asked him what movie we were going to watch this week. He told me it was my choice and gave me his list!"

Monday. Dean had been doing laundry late on Sunday night. He starts to smile to himself, but then thinks about the look on Cas's face when he took off, right after Dean told him 'It's weird to think of you touching my skivvies." It must have told Cas pretty definitively that Dean was unreceptive to the idea of Cas ever getting his hands in Dean's pants. He ruffles Jack's hair as he stands up.

"Thanks, kid. You're the best."

Jack gives him a blinding smile before he turns back to the movie, and Dean goes on a solo hunt in the bunker.

***

Cas isn't in his room, or at least he doesn't answer when Dean knocks. Dean searches every other room in the bunker, wondering if Cas has gone somewhere, but all the cars in the garage are accounted for. It's as he decides to go knock again, suspecting the worst, that he almost runs into Cas returning to his room from the shower, toweling his damp hair dry.

"Dean!" he says, startled at first and then taking several steps backward. Dean feels a pang of guilt when he does that, but if he gets this right it might be the last time that ever happens. Cas is wearing worn pajama bottoms and a ripped t-shirt that both used to be Dean's, and it makes him smile softly. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you. I'll be more careful." He tries to hug the wall and move into his room, but Dean leans an arm against the wall with a casual air, blocking his path.

"Hey Cas. Fancy meeting you here."

"Dean, what..." He freezes as Dean reaches out to take the towel from his hand, holding it out and dropping it on the floor.

"Oops. Dropped your towel." Cas gives him an odd look before moving to pick it up, and Dean takes that moment to crouch down and lean into his shoulder, effectively knocking him on his butt so Dean can pick up the towel instead.

"Dean, what was that for?" Cas asks, squinting at him, but Dean just holds out a hand.

"I'm so sorry. Here, let me help you." Cas gives him a distrustful look before he finally puts his hand in Dean's, who pulls him to his feet, but purposely pulls him too hard so that their bodies crash together. "Whoops, guess I don't know my own strength." He circles his hands behind Cas, grabbing the other end of the towel in his free hand, pulling Cas closer to him. "Let me steady you until you get your balance again."

"What are you doing?" Cas whispers, his voice gone husky, his hands pressing against Dean's chest.

"Cas," Dean says lowly, leaning in and then bypassing his lips in favor of whispering in his ear. "Have you been trying to pull me into a chick flick moment?"

"I don't, um," Dean nuzzles against his ear, and he hears the sharp intake of breath that follows it. "I don't know what you mean."

Dean pulls back to study Cas's face, and is surprised to see that he looks terrified. "Hey, it's okay," he says, dropping the towel with one hand to cup Cas's face instead. "Don't worry, it's okay."

"It is?"

"Yeah, Cas. It is." He leans in, telegraphing his intentions with his eyes, and when Cas closes his Dean brushes their lips together, ever so softly before he pulls away. "It just wasn't working because we met already."

"Do you, um," Cas starts, then huffs a small laugh. "Do you want to see my room?"

Dean grins, taking Cas by the hand and pulling him along, shutting the door behind them.

Sam straightens up from where he's been hiding behind the corner, shaking his head fondly as he heads toward the kitchen for a much needed drink.

"Dorks. It's about time."

 


End file.
